A Tale of Two Samurai
by Lord of the Saiyans
Summary: Stopping in a bar one day, Jack is met by a bald-headed monk who tells him a tale of an afro-haired demon and a headband that can allow him to return to the past. Jack decides to work with the old man to bring an end to this demon's terrible reign; but all is not as it seems and dark forces conspire against our hero. The duel of the Samurai is about to begin.
1. Swords and the Moon

The light of the full moon reflected across the side of his blade as it swept deceptively slowly. The edges were stained with blood, the sword itself still warm from the desert sun. It left a trail of droplets in its wake; a crimson tail to mark its passage.

Steel met steel under the watchful eyes of the moon. The sand under his feet threatened to make him lose his footing. The grip of his sword was soaked with sweat. They met again in a whirling storm of metal. Block, slash, parry, dodge and strike. Again, they spun away from the other. Two samurai locked in combat.

Samurai Jack had to fight the urge to wipe the sweat from his brow. His eyes were narrowed as he locked them with those of his Afro-haired enemy. His sword glinted faintly, its divine origin betrayed in the moonlight. Upon his foe's forehead, the headband which he needed.

They traded not a word. They didn't need to. So skilled in the ways of the blade that it was like another language. One spoken through strike and counter-strke. Through thrust and parry.

They met a third time in a trade of blows. This time Jack didn't play defence and surged forwards; stining with the tip of his blade. The Afro-Demon wove his defence well. Jack felt a stab of frustration, but it was only a minor one. This man, this demon was a mighty foe. When he'd first heard tale of a fellow samurai he'd barely believed it. Especially with the tails of bloody slaughter that he left in his wake. But now he could believe it, oh yes.

And he was going to put an end to it.

Despite the pain of his overused muscles, his grip on the handle of his blade was sure. The dark-skinned warrior was fast, but he'd overcommitted to the last strike; couldn't drew back fast enough. Jack rose and his blade made an audible sound, glinting pale blue in the moon light as Jack launched himself at the enemy. The man back-peddled, knowing when not to push his luck as Jack hammered in with a series of rapid jabs - not meant to kill, but to tire, draw blood and to weaken. They were fended off with expert skill and Jack found his respect for this new-found Samurai growing by the moment.

Respect didn't mean like. For even as he found his respect growing for the man's skills, his disgust also grew with the way he had acted. This power, this skill. Turned to a good purpose they could have done wonders.

The other samurai circled, the brief activity staled for now. There was silence save for their ragged breathing. Jack kept a firm grip on his sword, locking eyes onto the headband which was his ticket home.

They fought again. Swords like lightning, moving so fast that to the average eye they could not be seen at all. Slash, strike, dodge. Jack tumbled to the ground and rolled as an underhanded slash threatened to rip his chest in two.

Afro tried to recover, but Jack was faster and his blade tore open a gash across the man's chest to join the multiple others that already wept blood across his body. Nether samurai was exactly unharmed now.

Jack lunged forwards and swept for the man's neck. Afro ducked under the attack, his sword was too far away but his fist wasn't. With a single blow to the chest, the white-cloaked samurai was sent spinning away. Afro chased him. His sword leapt for the man's back but Jack regained control and countered with a slash to the side. Afro broke his run just in time, a spray of blood hit the sand.

The two samurai locked eyes again.

* * *

_It was a warm day when Jack first stumbled onto the legend of the Headbands. He had stopped over at a small town on the edge of a desert – about as far from Aku's reign as it was possible to be while still technically being within it. It was a hub of bounty-hunters, thieves and smugglers._

_Striding through the sand-swept streets, he ignored the looks he was getting. He was well used to it by now; with his white robes, his immaculate hair and his legendary sword, it didn't take much to figure out just who he was. Legends of his travels had seemed to spread through the length and breadth of Aku's dominion._

_Of course, this also meant that he had to be careful not to be ambushed by some opportunistic bunter hunter. It'd happened before, but always his skills and sword had been enough to free him. Last few times, he'd had no trouble. Maybe the message was finally getting through._

_Even as he thought this, he caught a movement from the corner of his sight. Someone was reaching for a sword, but before he could draw a hand stopped him. An old man had laid his hand across the blade. The would-be attacker glanced at him and he shook his head. With a frown, the man let go of the blade._

_Jack paid them no more heed._

_He needed to find a likely looking tavern. Places like this tended to have a certain type who would frequent such locations. There, he could fish for information about rumours of time travel and Aku's dealings. Then he'd know where to go next on his never-ending quest._

_Selecting one such building, he pushed aside the wooden door and strode into the musky darkness. The low murmur of whispered voices reached his well-trained ears. The clinking of glasses, the rancid smell of drink. He wrinkled his nose, but walked up to the counter anyway._

_The barman - -a humanoid being, covered in green scales leered at him, displaying double rows of razor-sharp teeth. There was no weapon in sight, but Jack had no doubt that there would be one close to hand._

_" What's yer poison, warrior?" He asked._

_" Just water," Jack said. It was his usual order in places like this. An unusual one to be sure, but it was hardly as though he was particularly suited to blending in in any case. Besides, drink clouded the senses and at any moment he might be called upon to do battle._

_The barman looked him up and down. Perhaps wondering what kind of man would order water in a tavern. Eventually, he decided that he just didn't care and brought forth a sparkling glass of the stuff. It was expensive; so close to the desert water didn't come cheap. Jack paid him and slipped off into the crowd._

_With well-practised eyes, he scanned the tables, looking for one that was not crowded but was close enough to the centre to hear any of the rumours that often circulated in bars. Finding one to his liking, the samurai made his way to an empty table and settled down for a long wait._

_The heavy and chaotic beat of the music that the future seemed to favour assaulted his ear. The samurai held no liking for it. There was no peace to be found within its notes. Not serenity. Just chaotic disharmony. A neat mirror of the future world which Aku had created in his absence._

_Nursing his cool drink, he cast his eyes around the bar. Most of the costumers seemed to be locals, humans and humanoids wearing rough-made clothes suitable for workers. He relaxed slightly, he would have no trouble from this lot._

_No sooner had he decided this than a man sat down at his table. For a second, his hand went to the grip of his sword. He relaxed it as he got a good look at the visitor. He was an old man, scarred and bald._

_His head was shaven bald but he had a long white beard and his eye-brows were as white as the snow on a harsh winter. The man's face was criss-crossed with scars, some of them were quite deep. His left hand was bony and scarred, but but right one gleamed a dull bronze. Whirring as he moved, the man's body was covered by loose, dark robes. The man's eyes focused on Jack and for a brief second, Jack was tempted to revise his classification of the man as harmless. Those eyes burned. Burned with confidence and a surety that Jack had seen only in the mightiest of warriors, they were deep, not naturally, but artificially so. So full of belief and raw confidence that they seemed to stretch on forever._

_" A Samurai?" The man said, his voice was full-toned, powerful; it was the kind of voice that could carry to the roof-tops of a crowded temple or church. Jack frowned, wondering why he had chosen that particular comparison but then it downed upon him that the age of the man, his shaven head and the way he carried himself, combined with the power of his voice made him seem almost like a priest or monk. Certainly someone who used his voice for a living, but the harmonics told of someone used to giving commands, Jack couldn't imagine that voice singing or selling food, but he could imagine it chanting in prayer... Yes, priest or monk seemed about right._

_" You know of me?" Jack asked simply, keeping his tone neutral. If this was one of Aku's traps... but no, this didn't feel like one of the demon's mechanisations. Hadn't he been thinking of how his reputation was spreading only moments ago?_

_" I have heard of your legendary adventurers. "The man admitted "Though I also know of the Samurai. It was one of you that gave me these scars."_

_Jack carefully said nothing. He had met no other samurai since his trip to the future. None that he would call true samurai at least. A pretender to the name here and there, but no real samurai had survived. Aku had seen to that. As far as he knew, he was the last of his kind. Yet, he was curious. Perhaps the old man would say more._

_"I came here to search for great warriors." the old man continued. "But never in my life did I dream that I might find you here. The legendary Samurai Jack. It is said that you seek a way to return to the past. In this, I am indeed fortunate. For I believe that I may have the answers that you seek."_

_" What do you know of me?" Jack asked, " And how can you help me if what you have said is true?"_

_" Allow me to explain," the bald man had said, " And please tolerate a short history lesson, it will aid you in understanding the things of which I speak._

_Long ago, before Aku rose to power truly, the Gods of the world created a magical item. It is not known why or even how they did this, or why they then cast it into the mortal world but whatever its purpose, its power is unquestioned. This mystical item took the form of a headband embellished with a number one. It was said, that whoever held this Number One Headband had the powers of a God._

_Imagine it, no force could stand against him, he could remake the world as he saw fit... and nothing, human, machine, or demon could stop him. No force could match him, no army defeat him and no barrier hold him. It was said that his powers were nigh limitless and that no man could stand against him. Save for one. You see, the Gods decided that the ultimate power afforded by the Number One Headband was too much for any one mortal to handle for a length of time, and so they created a twin, a Number Two Headband. Now Number Two had no powers of its own save that it allowed the wearer to challenge Number One on equal footing. The trick of course was that anyone could challenge for Number Two. And so; only the most powerful, skilled and ruthless warriors ever survived to claim the Number One. The Headband Wars raged across this world for countless years as armies and entire civilizations battled to control the Number One, and through it, the destiny of all. But then Aku came to power, and with his armies, he crushed the lands and soon the Headbands were forgotten as Aku's iron rule was imposed over all._

_But the power afforded by the Number One was a threat to Aku, he realised it quickly and despatched minions to contain and, if possible, destroy the Headband. Myself and my brothers also realised the ramifications of this Headband and set off to gain this power for the cause of righteousness. In this, we failed, for you see the Headband Wars never truly ended, though they fell from public sight. The Number Two Headband was guarded by a man known only as the Afro Samurai - a mortal warrior who fights like a demon. He cut us down as we struggled and only I survived. As you can see, I didn't get out unscathed. He dispatched Aku's minions with the same ease. I knew that I had to defeat him if we were ever to gain the Number Two and through it, the Number One. So I spent many years searching for the most deadly warriors with a grudge against Aku. Many have I found, but only you, mighty Samurai, have the skills required to take on the Afro-Demon on equal footing and defeat him to lay claim to the Headband."_

_Jack pondered on this for several seconds in silence, if what this old man said was true, the Number One Headband could be his way home, or perhaps this legendary power could even aid him in defeating Aku? If the legends were true then it could certainly do damage to him if in the right hands. But could this old man be trusted? How much of this was just legend and how much was fact?_

_He needed to know more._

_" This ''Afro-Samurai'' what do you know of him? Why does he fight? Why hasn't he fought Aku if he is as skilled as you say?"_

_The old man nodded "A good and worthy question, mighty Samurai. I expected no less from one of your intellect. The answers you seek are simple. Not much is known of the Afro-Demon. Only that he is a samurai of unmatched power and his skills are legend, that much I have witnessed for myself. He has no name, this Afro Samurai, no friends or comrades, he fights only for the glory of combat, or so they say. Je has no goal other than to kill, no reason to exist other than to inflict suffering on others. He has no reason to do battle with Aku, why would he? The two of them are very similar of personality."_

_Jack nodded, his mind turning, " So this, it is a Afro Samurai is a demon?"_

_" A demon of the soul in human form, a monster that no human should ever have to face, this creature, this demon perverts the very code of the Samurai to his own purposes and brings nought but death and destruction in his wake. And his ultimate goal is to kill, if he ever attains the Number One Headband, Aku will be the least of this world's problems. Better a thousand- no, a million years of Aku than one year under the blood-thirsty fist of the Afro Samurai."_

_" And this Headband is as powerful as you say? Could it be used to travel time or to defeat Aku."_

_" Most assuredly both," the man said._

_" Then I will work with you," Jack decided._

_" Excellent," the man said, "In all my years of travel, I have found only two others with the skills to fight the samurai. You make three. It is fortunate that I found you when I did; we were just preparing to head out and face the demon. With your help, we'll be able to bring him to justice at long last."_

_He turned to leave but Jack spoke quickly, " Wait, before we go, what am I to call you?"_

_The bald man grinned, his golden tooth gleamed in the light, " Me? You can call me Brother One."_


	2. Fathers

Afro leapt back as the wickedly sharp sword slashed for his chest. He was fast; but the blade nevertheless drew a red line across his skin. He hissed in pain. Before he could recover, the other samurai reacted with a dozen shallow slashes and cuts. The aim was so true and the sword arm so strong that it was all he could do to parry them. Sweat dripped down his face as the black samurai realised that he was losing ground.

A crash of steel and the two blades met again. Afro angled it so that the other would be deflected to the side – all he needed was one clean cut – but the other was just as skilful and held his position. His arms ached and for the first time in a while, Afro got the idea that he was facing someone on his own level. The Number Two headband which trailed behind him fluttered in the breeze created by their rapid movements.

His arms burned. His sword was starting to shake. The other guy just wouldn't back off. Was he some kind of cyborg? Afro had seen them before. Warriors who augmented their fighting skills with technology.

A quick glance into his foe's eye killed that thought stone dead. No, he'd fought for a long time and he had learned to take the measure of a man through his eyes. This was not a warrior who relied on things beyond his own control. This was skill alone.

He felt a shiver across his spine. This was one fight he wasn't entirely certain that he could win...

A quick kick smashed into his gut and with a surprised exclamation, Afro tumbled to the ground. Instinct took over and he rolled just as the blade descended like a guillotine and sliced into where he would have been.

"Afro! Yo, Afro, you better step up your game he's kicking your ass!"

Afro ignored the annoying voice of the ninja/sign of his deteriorating mental health. As always, it served only as a distraction. A distraction he didn't need right now...

Moving like greased lightning, the white-clad samurai slashed again, this time intent on severing his head from his shoulder. Afro baulked for a second – images of his father's severed head flying through the sky, and a voice. ''One day, when you are old enough, find me."

Justice...

The man who had killed his father still lived. He couldn't afford to fall here. He surged forwards with a renewed offensive, weaving a web of steel about himself as the two blades met again and again. Each of the samurai almost seemed lost to their own minds. Striking so quickly and with such force that even a single error could be the difference between life and death.

This wasn't a fight between amateurs. Or even a fight between experienced veterans. This was a battle to the death between two masters of the blade. This was the kind of battle he had once dared to dream that he might once participate in, to avenge his father. But this was no childish daydream. This was real.

And he was _losing. _

It wasn't obvious. Not to anyone but a master. Afro knew though. He was tiring; his strikes were beginning to lack the force required to batter through his enemy's defences.

He tried to bring his body back into line. Deep breaths, forget the pain. Forge on and win this battle as he had so many others!

Afro slipped beneath one of the white-clad warrior's swings and his sword licked out. The warrior parried quickly, but not quite fast enough. A red spot fouled his pristine robes. Blood. But not enough. The wound was light. The other samurai still had victory virtually assured.

Unless he did something clever...

Afro bellowed a battle-cry and charged, letting his form slip out of focus and slipping on – perhaps just a bit too easily – the mask of someone livid with rage. He charged forwards with a wild swing!

The other easily blocked it. The white-clad warrior grinned, but it quickly became a startled look of pain as Afro's free hand brought his scabbard hard into his abdomen. The man coughed and his spittle was tinged red. For a fraction of a second, his grip weakened. Anyone else would have missed the chance, but Afro was a master of the sword. He rammed his blade into the ground by his enemy's foot (Nicking it in the process) and forcing another step back. With the scabbard, he struck upwards and sent the blade flying into the air!

There was a clatter as two equal parts fell to the ground. His reinforced scabbard, which he often used to fight in absence or even in combination with his sword. Split in two as easily as he might shear a log or body.

He didn't have time to think on that now, this was his chance - perhaps his only one – with savage swiftness, he brought his blade up in a crescent. The white warrior moved as easily as a ghost, but even he couldn't evade the whole blade. The tip drew a dark line across his chest. Crimson stained his robes again. He followed through, intending to drive the tip through the man's heart but the samurai stepped aside lightly and wrapped his arm around Afro's wrist. There was a crack and a flash of pain as he was thrown to the ground.

Afro rolled again; noting the blinding pain from his arm in an almost absent-minded way. _Broken wrist, maybe smashed. _

Using his free arm, he pushed himself up again. He'd expected the attack to resume at once, but the other had staled to reclaim his sword. The wind howled between the two samurai. His sweat-stained headband swayed in the sudden breeze. At times like this, he almost wondered why they fought as they did? What if the head-bands had never come to exist? Would all this fighting have come to pass? All the killing and blood-letting? But those thoughts never lasted long. He was a warrior, he lived in the now.

Again, he saw his father. Fighting the final battle against Justice. His moves so pure; his style so good. It had been the first time that Afro had seen a samurai do battle. Justice had gone for his guns, but his father was too fast, closing the distance. His blade shining like the wrath of the heavens themselves. Afro's eyes had widened, this was it! His father was going to win!

Then a spray of blood. His father's body slumping to the ground as his head rolled freely. In a single, horrible movement, Justice had killed the only man Afro had ever truly loved with all his heart.

The man stood up and brushed himself off. Stooping only to retrieve the headband from his father. The Number One. Then he walked towards Afro. The young boy had frozen. Locked in horror and shock. This couldn't have happened. His father was a legend, he couldn't fall in battle! Not in front of his own son.

Afro had thought that he was going to die. Justice merely paused in front of him and with an almost affectionate motion, put his hand down on the tearful child's head.

"This memory will always haunt you. You will be consumed with hate for me."

And then, as though Afro meant less than nothing he turned his back on the sobbing child.

"Come challenge me. When you're ready to face a god."

He had thought himself ready. One by one, he had tracked down and eliminated anyone who could have stopped him. He held the Number Two headband and with it, the right to finally duel Justice and avenge his father.

But none of that could happen. Not unless he picked himself up and and won this fight.

The other samurai picked up his blade and weighed it carefully in hand. He looked to Afro and for a second, their eyes met. He gestured to where his blade had fallen. Afro needed only a second to piece it together.

_Honour among warriors? _ He thought. He shook his head. Such a thing wasn't unheard of; his old master at the dojo for example. But he'd learned that it was much rarer than he ever could have expected. Especially among those who would search or the headband.

"Afro!" The voice again. "That fool wants to give you back your sword! Go on and get it and use it to take him down!"

Optimistic. Afro thought sourly. This warrior was _good. _ Several cuts above the low level thugs and mercs he usually faced. As things were going now, he'd probably be the one to be killed. For most of his fights, Afro could usually rely on his superior skills to see him through. This time however, he had a horrible feeling that he was the one outmatched.

He reached his sword and clenched it in his working hand. With an effort of will, he tried to focus on the fight at hand. It wasn't easy. The agonized throbbing of his broken arm made him feel that a dozen shards had been driven into it. He tested it for a half-second and found it worthless; he'd not be able to fight with this.

A strange feeling stole over him then. Was it...fear? Afro Samurai was not a man used to fear. Oh, he inspired it pretty often that was true. And this wasn't the first fight he had been on the verge of losing. But usually, his enemy was a robot or there were more of them or there was some other factor. Hardly ever before had he been beaten with pure skill. It brought him back to his days in the dojo...

No. He wouldn't think of that. Not now. _Especially _not now. He wouldn't think of what had become of the dojo because of him or the days that had followed.

Drip. Drip.

Blood dropped from the tip of his blade and the wounds on his chest. His chest heaved; gasping for air.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sound was all he could focus on. The sound of life itself dripping from the end of his blade. Falling into the spreading pool of crimson at his feet.

Drip.

He charged. Trying to build up speed as he angled his blade for the next series of thrusts and parries. He only had one arm; he couldn't drag this out any longer. One way or another, this would be over in the next few minutes.

His bloody sword met the white blade in mid-air and the battle began anew.

_The hot wind of the desert scrapped across his nerves as Jack felt the sand blown through his loose robes. He suppressed a frown at the loud snort of amusement that came from his side. Two warriors were gathered around the enigmatic Brother One. The so called best of the best; the most elite. _

_Jack once more cast his eyes over them. There was the cowboy, all guns and ego. A quick draw of a gun, but Jack had already dismissed him as a threat. Beside him, a Manhunter – a killing machine of the kind developed by Aku himself. It set his teeth on edge to be working with such a creature, but it was known that they could go rogue and Jack had to believe that even a machine was not innately evil. _

_Even if its arms _did_ gleam with fold out weapons; its hunched back supporting a portable shield generator. Two blades crossed across its lower chest. This one was the biggest threat, Jack was sure. He would keep an eye on it for the rest of the trip. _

_Jack had fought more than enough robots in his life to know that they were hardly ever any good. His sword hand itched and as a warrior who had learned to listen to his instincts, he knew that meant something. Just not what..._

_For the dozenth time, he ran the story of thos rogue samurai through his head. The demon-souled warrior who held the Number Two headband and cut a bloody swath of destruction through the land. Again, something in his soul rebelled at the idea. That a samurai of all things could stoop to such actions... _

_It was a duty to bring down this rogue. Samurai to samurai. He may have been one of the few remaining warriors to hold that title, but he still had to maintain its honour. Samurai couldn't be a force for evil, Aku was already too strong for that. Samurai were supposed to be a force for good. All he had been taught led him to that conclusion; that it was his duty to strike down evil wherever he found it. That it was the duty of any samurai to stand with the oppressed wherever they needed him._

_And now, to find one who abused his powers so evilly? It made his heart boil and his gut burn. __ Samurai should be more. They should be...should be..._

_A memory he had not returned to in a long time. His father standing at the side of an artificial lake. His face the very picture of serenity. He was wearing his armour. The armour of a shogun; an elite samurai. He wielded the magic sword which had been forged to defeat evil. The very sword Jake now held. _

_His father who had been torn down when Aku came for him again. His father who had stood rather than run, even knowing that victory was impossible. His honour would not allow him to abandon his people. Even for his own son. _

_No. A samurai was a force for good. That was all there was to it. Anyone who would abuse their position and the skills that came with it not only didn't deserve the title, but was due a meeting from a real samurai. _

_What was the purpose of a samurai? This was a question which had been posed to him numerous times during his training. Was it a warrior? Was it to be wise? Was it to be honourable? Was it to be the best a man can be?_

No. It was all of that. All of that and more. To be a samurai, you had to oppose evil. Wherever you found it.

_A flash of a burning town, evil towers striking up through the ground. People running, screaming, in the midst a single lost shogun. Alone and beaten, but never bowed. And never to run._

_You fought evil. No matter the cost. _

"_All right everyone gather round now." Brother One's booming voice broke through his reverie. "The Afro-Samurai has recently been spotted in this region. Now, all you know why we need to find him before he kills again so I won't bore you with the details. Just now that our actions decide the future. We must be strong for those yet to come! We must fight and win no matter what! The Afro-Haired Demon is a powerful enemy without doubt. If we show weakness, he'll pick us apart just as he did my own precious brothers. Once we find him, we'll move in as a group and finish him off. You have my word that you will all be paid in full, whatever payment you wanted."_

"_With the money that you're payin' and the bounty on this guy, I'm surprised he ain't dead already." The cowboy put in. "He ain't that tough, is he?"_

"_I called him a demon and rest assured, I did not lie on that account! He is as fast and powerful as a storm and about as forgiving! If you fight him alone, you will most certainly die! That was a mistake that I made once before. Each of us tried to fight him on our own, thinking that honour would force him to fight with some sense of fairness. We were wrong. He cut us down one by one and without even blinking. At the end, he even slew his childhood friend whose only wish was to stop the monster that he had become. My entire organisation, wiped out. Only I was lucky enough to survive and as you all saw, I did not do so unharmed. These scars are as much a reminder to me as they are a warning to others. Do not underestimate the Afro-Samurai. If you do, you will most surely pay."_

"_Hmmp." The man spat on the sand. "Jus' give me one shot and I'll bring you your demon."_

"_We shall see." Brother One said. "But advise you not to count on it. I've seen him dodge bullets before. Nothing but the very chains of hell themselves can hold this demon for too long."_

_The cowbow spat at the ground again. Jack frowned. Surely, this ill-mannered brute wasn't the best that Brother One had been able to round up? Jack couldn't speak for the Afro-Samurai, but he himself could have cut the gunman down at least three times by now. _

_As to the robot..._

_No, he was being silly. Brother One was an honourable man. If these were all he had been able to gather then it was down to Jack himself to make up the difference. Samurai versus Samurai. His code called for nothing less. _

"_Where's this outlaw headed?" The gunman asked. "I'll have you his head, headband and all by the end of the week. Guar-an-teed."_

_Jack scoffed at the thought. The robot appeared to agree and broke up the conversation with a static-sounding voice._

"_What is the location of the target?"_

"_Unknown." One replied. "But we have reports that he is not far. Two days from here there is a town in the middle of the desert. It is not a well-off place. They survive on water from deep wells, but with the Afro-Demon making his way across the sands, I suspect he will stop there. It will probably not be a peaceful visit."_

"_Then we move fast." It was the first thing Jack had said since being brought to the ground. His straw hat was tugged gently in the breeze. He raised a hand to steady it. _

"_'Friad that you're gonna lose your shade little man?" The gunslinger snorted. "You won't last a minute once we get there. I don't know what One is thinking. I suppose I'll have to put you to good use as a bullet shield."_

_Jack drew upon his legendary patience. The insult slid off him and he turned to One, all bussiness. _

"_Can we reach the town before the demon?"_

"_If we make haste." One said. "But I was intending to catch him on the way out, in the open desert we could-"_

"_With all due respect elder, we can't afford that." Jack was adamant. "If what you say is true, then he has called more than enough innocents already. I will not allow another town to fall before I reach him."_

"_Well aren't you just mister heroic." The gunman said. "Dressed up in your nice white nightdress and with your nice sharp pig-sticker. Let me tell you something, once the fighting starts you're gonna get killed. If you can even keep up at all."_

_One ignored him. Locking eyes with Jack. The samurai tried to communicate his need to be there, he wouldn't suffer innocents to be harmed. They had to move fast. Most people had a hard time reading his body language, but just for once he seemed to have met someone who could._

_"-Very well then." Brother One bowed gently. " You have shamed me young man. In my haste to purge a demon, I had forgotten to consider those caught in the fire. By all means, we will intercept him at the town, or before if we can reach it."_

_Jack breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."_

_The robot was silent, but the gunman snorted._

"_We gonna be taking any more orders from this white-clothed punk? 'cus if so, I'm not responsible for what happens. I only listen to the man with the money and that ain't him." He paused for a second. "Still, the town is good too. Plenty of cover." He shot Jack a glance. "And moving shields."_

_His teeth ground together, but Jack still managed to project the outward image of perfect serenity. He turned without a word._

"_We should go." He said. _

"_Agreed." Brother One started to walk into the desert. "It is one and a half days or so to the town if we hurry. I've brought water so follow me and I shall lead you to the demon. After that, its down to you."_

_The manhunter followed without a word. Jack did the same. The gunslinger shot him a glare and then brought up the rear._

_The small group trudged out into the desert. _


End file.
